Golden Apples and Frankincense
by WingsOfFate
Summary: Fawkes did more than just heal Harry that night in the Chamber. Now Harry's stuck in a strange new world without the magic he knows, where people want to either claim him or kill him. Add a rebellious earthbender and a banished prince and there's no way Harry's staying out of this war. Creature!Harry, copious folklore and world building.
1. Pyre

I have had (the start of) this story sitting on my hard drive for years, completely stalled after a certain point and no motivation to finish it.

Many thanks to Stella Wind and Jukebox Hound here on fanfiction who gave lovely feedback as well as concrit and let me whine at them about this story. If anyone else betaed or gave feedback who I've forgotten to mention I am very sorry.

(W)angsty first chapter but I promise it does pick up after this.

* * *

Golden Apples and Frankincense

Chapter One: Pyre

Harry lay on his bed, nursing a split lip with the tip of his tongue. It hurt, but less than a lot of pains he'd experienced recently. It was nothing compared to the disembodied spirit of a madman passing through his body, or a giant basilisk's venom coursing through his veins. It was nothing compared to the hurt he was feeling now, which transcended physical discomfort.

_Harry dear,_

_I hope you are enjoying the summer holidays and didn't make yourself sick with all those pastries I sent you. I should have mentioned that there was a preservation charm on them, so there was no need finish them so quickly. _

_Ginny sends her love and the boys miss you of course, they have been pestering me for weeks about having you over for a game of pick-up quidditch. I know I said that we could have you over earlier in the summer this year, but Professor Dumbledore thinks it would be best for you to spend your birthday with family and I agree with him. _

_I cannot thank you enough for all you've done for my family, but perhaps this would be a good time to mend the rift in yours? We'll be there to pick you up on the 1st of August as previously agreed._

_Much love,_

_Mrs Weasley. _

The letter was the same no matter how many times he read it and Harry angrily shoved the parchment back into its hiding place along with his prized possessions and the last crumbs of Mrs Weasley's pastries. They had been the lion's share of the calories he'd eaten since late June as his aunt had placed him on a slow starvation diet again. At least she was occasionally heating up the soup she shoved through his cat flap, and over-ripe fruit meant he wouldn't die of scurvy at least.

He had picked the lock on Hedwig's cage when food started to run low, during the window of opportunity when the Dursleys were away for a weekend-long flower show. Hedwig's regular disappearances hadn't been noticed and Harry was glad that at least she wasn't hungry (she was more than well-fed if the dead mice she brought him meant anything. Naturally, Harry hadn't eaten them, though he appreciated the gesture).

Harry had _begged_ Mrs Weasley to let him stay at The Burrow, the same woman who had been so supportive and motherly after he rescued Ginny from the Chamber, who had twice knitted him a Weasley jumper like he was a part of her family... and she said 'no'.

She said she cared, he had _saved her daughter's life_ but she acted like everything her children had told her was a lie, that Harry asking for food and sanctuary was just a cry for attention rather than a legitimate plea for his life.

There weren't iron bars keeping him locked up any more but the old window had been replaced with a 'child friendly' brand that opened outwards a couple of inches and no more. Hedwig had some trouble manoeuvring in and out; Harry, emaciated though he was from lack of food and exercise, had no chance of escape. Add that to the multiple locks on his door and a cat-flap just large enough to push a plate through, Harry would have gone stir crazy if he wasn't able to get out more than once a day for his bathroom break.

The twins, funnily enough, were the only ones that really took the situation they'd seen last year seriously and had helped Harry hide hairpins in his clothes: at the hem of his trousers, the collar of his too-large shirt, even the tops of his socks. Enough of them had survived the journey from King's Cross and weren't discovered when uncle Vernon confiscated his wand. Harry was by no means a lock picking expert after the twin's crash course, but he got plenty of practice sneaking out in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, steal food from the kitchen, or retrieve some of his homework from his old bedroom under the stairs.

Harry was probably the only student at Hogwarts who started his summer assignments before he left school and still only finished half of them before the train ride back.

"It's the... nineteenth of July." He consulted the scrap of paper pinned above his headboard, marked off every morning like a prisoner counting days off their sentence. "It's not that long until August, right Hedwig?"

She hooted softly from her cage, her feathers rustling agitatedly.

"Yeah, I know you're restless, girl." Dudley's old alarm clock, painstakingly repaired after his cousin had thrown it at the wall, read quarter past eleven. "I don't think the Dursleys will be up any more tonight. Want to go hunting?"

The snowy owl hooted again, more enthusiastically but still keeping the decibel count low, matching Harry's whispers.

"Okay girl, no point having both of us cooped up all night." The almost-thirteen-year-old retrieved a hairpin from his hiding place under the floorboards, a row of them were gently pinching a page of his photo album, so they wouldn't get lost in the folds of his invisibility cloak. The green eyed boy smiled as his parents waved at him from their enchanted photograph of they day he was born, before gently closing the album again and moving the board back over the hole.

Hedwig was practically vibrating with excitement as Harry picked the cheap bike lock uncle Vernon had bought. For once the man's stinginess towards his nephew had actually worked in Harry's favour.

"There you go, gorgeous." Harry stroked the black-dappled feathers at the side of her star white face. Hedwig leaned into his touch before hopping out her cage and flying to her boy's shoulder, crooning into his neck for more pettings. Harry laughed softly. "Someone wants to be spoiled tonight. I should have named you 'Princess'."

The hoot was more like a squawk this time.

"Don't like that?" Harry murmured amusedly. "How about... 'Empress'? Or 'Your Ladyship'?"

Hedwig beat her wings, smacking Harry around the head and knocking his glasses askew. He righted them and went back to petting, her chest feathers this time.

"I take it back, you fit 'battle' and 'war' perfectly."

Hedwig preened her human's hair smugly, crooned into his cheek one more time then flew to the sill on silent wings, waiting for him to unlatch the fiddly window for her.

"Good hunting." Hedwig wriggled around the pane and took to flight with a reassuring hoot. Harry watched her skim over the lawn and arch into the night sky, a white spectre against the indigo night.

He felt restless as he watched her fade from sight and he stood by the window for several minutes after she had gone. A hot prickling at his eyes made him turn away. 'Stupid,' he thought, 'getting mushy about Hedwig going hunting.' Even though she was his only friend here, he had no right to keep her locked up like he was, not when she could fly free.

All the same, Harry didn't feel like he could sleep just yet, not when he'd been cooped up in one little room for the past month. Restless energy was making him twitchy. He retrieved his Charms textbook from under the bed and flipped to his page mark, flopped onto the ratty duvet and began reading about the locking charm. There was no harm waiting until Hedwig came back...

* * *

Harry woke with a start.

He'd fallen asleep, one hand curled around his textbook and his glasses pressing uncomfortably into the side of his face. Righting the frames on his face, Harry felt his stomach flip as he realised why he'd woken up in the first place.

Someone was unlocking the door.

Harry scrambled to his feet, his gaze darting about to see if anything was out of place. Stupidly he realised he was still holding his Charms book and, with no time to reach his hiding place, shoved it under his pillow just in time for uncle Vernon to open the door and peer one beady eye around the frame.

"Any idea what time it is, boy?" He snapped, his moustache twitching side-to-side.

Harry glanced at the clock surreptitiously and blanched as it read half one in the morning. "Late, sir. I'm sorry, I fell asleep with the light on." Harry had learned a long time ago that owning up to a small infraction was better than Vernon stringing a bigger one out of him later.

The whale of a man almost left it at that, tired and irritable enough to go back to bed or continue to the bathroom, the kitchen- wherever he'd been going at this early hour of the morning but his eyes settled on the one incrimination Harry couldn't hide. "Where's that ruddy bird, boy?" His voice was deceptively calm.

"Er..." Harry scrambled for an explanation but there was none, Hedwig's cage had been locked since the day they got back from Hogwarts, at least according to his uncle's view of the world. "Sending a letter, sir." Harry settled on, if he was going to get in trouble for this he might as well make the most of it.

"A letter." Vernon stepped into the room fully, his bulk making the floorboards under Harry's feet vibrate with every step. "What the bloody hell is that thing SENDING A LETTER FOR?"

Harry refused to flinch, keeping his chin up and his split lip from the day before on view. "I wrote to my friends, told them I wanted to go stay with them for the summer. Told them-" Harry wove the story in his mind, pulling together half dream and half desperation. "I told them if I didn't write to them again soon they should come pick me up right away. Hagrid would be furious if he found out you'd kept me locked up again, angry enough to turn Dudley into a real pig this time-"

SMACK!

Harry rocked back, grabbing the bedside table for support as his other hand probed the welt rising on his left cheek. Usually he was better at dodging than that but Vernon's fury had catapulted the man across the room like a particularly bloated rocket. Before he had time to react, Vernon had a fist of messy black locks in a tight hold and had dragged the green eyed boy into an uncomfortably close face-to-face confrontation. "If one of your freakish little friends comes anywhere _near_ my family again, I'll make you regret the day you were born, boy!" He shook his nephew roughly, almost lifting the feather light boy off the ground with the shaking. "DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"

Spittle flecked Harry's face as he tried to nod and settled instead for a quiet "yes, sir." His scalp was burning by the time he was let go and he resisted checking to see if he had bald patches from the experience.

Vernon smiled nastily, his chest heaving from exertion. "Good, because when that flea-infested feather duster of yours comes back, I'm going to wring its scrawny little neck. That'll teach you to threaten my son."

"What! No!" Harry exclaimed, "Hedwig hasn't done anything wrong! I was lying before- she's not even sending a letter, I let her out to hunt, please!" He pleaded, rising to his feet, "don't hurt her!" Tears pricked at his eyes, though he hadn't cried in years he felt an almost overwhelming urge to now. How could he survive the summers without Hedwig? The only living being in the whole house that didn't look at him like he was scum and Harry had just sent her to her death. "Uncle Vernon, please!" The man had always liked to hear him beg, some days it even made him chuckle delightedly and comment how 'everything was right in the world'.

That tactic wasn't working tonight either. Vernon knocked Harry to the bed with one meaty arm, swatting off any attempt for the child to reason with him. Vernon was turning an interesting shade of puce which was a danger sign right there. "You brought this on yourself." He turned off the light and pulled up Harry's desk chair, seemingly content now to wait out the night until Hedwig came back. She was too smart for that, surely? And she would see Vernon in the dark before he would- she was nocturnal and had great night vision and... Harry didn't want to take a chance on his friend's life.

The skinny pre-teen dove for the door and slipped around the still ajar entrance like a snake, leaving the tiniest gap, now if only he could get it closed before- no, Vernon had caught the handle before Harry could put three locks and a cat flap between them. Harry bolted for the stairs, taking them two at a time as Vernon's furious bellow woke his wife and son.

Harry just needed to get outside, he knew where he could hide and Hedwig would track him, would instinctively _know_ like she always did that Harry wasn't where she'd left her. Then all it would take was a word and she'd be safely on her way to the Weasley's. He'd leave her with them from now on, or at Hogwarts. Where she'd be safe.

The grass was dewy under Harry's bare feet and already it was soaking the hems of his too-large pyjamas. He couldn't remember fumbling with the back door, just the bulk of Vernon bearing down on him as the door clicked open under his sweaty grasp and that chapter on unlocking charms flashed before his eyes.

He ran. Through the gap in the fence, which he had fixed two years ago and Dudley's gang had broken again the next summer; if Harry hadn't been locked up this summer and the last he would have been made to fix it again. The hole made was only two slats wide but Harry made it through with barely a wriggle, Vernon would have to go over the top. Then he was tumbling down the hill leading to the primary school, the cemetery, so many locations so far from here and none in the direction he really wanted to go.

Up a tree would be best, neither Vernon or Dudley could climb one and Petunia would sooner swallow arsenic than touch something as 'dirty' as tree bark.

There was one, just up ahead, the one Ripper had chased him up when he was little and he had clung to the trunk all night before that rabid thing was finally called off. Vernon would have to call the fire brigade to get him down, and he wouldn't if he could avoid losing face in front of the neighbours.

Ten feet, five-

Harry yelped in pain as something hard clipped the back of his head. It wasn't a hand, it was too round and dense for that. From the bleary eyed position face-down on the grass, Harry spotted a rounded river stone from aunt Petunia's rockery which was suspiciously wet with a dark substance.

"I GOT HIM, DAD!" Dudley crowed victoriously as Harry wobbled to his feet, sanctuary just within reach. He jumped for one of the low hanging branches but was snatched back by the collar and swung around to face a heavily panting Vernon. Behind him stood a wildly grinning Dudley, his pyjamas already a size too small and Petunia, her arms crossed over a paisley dressing gown and her blonde hair in a rare state of disarray.

"Get him inside," Petunia sniffed, peering at the upper windows of Privet Drive still barely in view with her long neck. A couple of houses were starting to flicker into wakefulness, as people turned on their bedside lamps to see who was making that racket at this time of night. "Quickly, before people _see_."

Harry's loving aunt: not concerned that her husband and son were beating her nephew black and blue, but what the Jones' would think if they knew.

Harry giggled, that rhymed. And his head hurt, three head injuries in two days was his limit evidently. He couldn't even remember how he'd gotten the first one anymore...

"What are you laughing about, freak?" Vernon shook him for extra emphasis, unintentionally clearing some of the fog from his nephew's mind as he bestowed Harry his most loathed insult.

Freak. 'Freak' and 'Boy' were all Harry could remember being called until the first morning of primary school, when his aunt had taken him aside and told him his name, so he would know when to answer the register.

He sometimes wondered what would have happened if she never had, if he had calmly told Miss Conner of class 1B that his name was 'Boy Freak' or 'Freak Boy', whichever she preferred.

Though maybe, like the red haired matriarch, she might not have even cared. It's not like he had saved _Miss Conner's_ daughter after all.

"Don't call me that." He struggled against Vernon's hold until Harry's hand-me-down shirt slopped up his skeletal ribs and hooded over his head. "Let me go- LET ME GO!"

"Keep him quiet!" Petunia hissed, her pale eyes darting once more to the windows. "Shut up, you nasty little boy or you'll think what you were eating before was five star dining!"

Vernon cuffed him around the head and started dragging him in the direction of the house. Harry's struggles increased, in for a penny, in for a pound. "HELP ME, SOMEBODY HELP ME!" He gagged around one of Vernon's hand's and his screams were muffled before he was being marched double time back up the hill. The wizard twisted and squirmed, digging in his heels against the wet earth and all the while trying to get his mouth free to cry out again. Eventually Dudley had to help pull his cousin along, gleefully chocking the smaller boy while Petunia made hurrying motions with her hands.

No one was coming out of their houses, though more lights were on than ever, he should have known. Privet Drive had always been the sort of place where everyone spied on everyone else but never did anything about the secrets they unearthed, no matter how horrible they were. Either that or they just hadn't noticed that he hadn't been outside a _single_ _day_ this summer and very few the last- who was aunt Petunia blaming the graffiti and burnt out wheelie bins on now?

They were at the back door, despite all Harry's best efforts, when Mr Turner at number Five turned on his porch light and stepped out into his garden. A three foot tall hedge and Petunia's rake thin body couldn't hide the bruise purpling on Harry's cheek, and certainly not the death grip the male Dursleys had on the black haired boy.

Mr Turner, for all his blind-eyeing in the past couldn't let this one slip by. His withered face went pale, then red and he slammed the door with the cry: "I'm calling the police!"

"Oh, look what you've done!" Petunia's hands were now torn between ringing themselves and curling into fists. "Where's your owl, I need it right _now_!"

"Mnnph!" Harry's response was swallowed by Vernon's hand though a moment later he withdrew after a frosty glance from his wife. "Why do you want Hedwig? What are you going to do to her now?"

She levelled a _look_ at her portly spouse before smothering her lips in a smile that looked almost painful. "Harry, dear, I just need to send a message to your headmaster. You wanted to leave, didn't you? Well, if you let me borrow your owl you can leave tonight."

Harry's mind whirled. Dumbledore. What did she want with Dumbledore? He was one of the only people who knew where he was, except the Ministry who had sent him that warning about the levitating pudding last year. Aunt Petunia only asked when someone saw, because that was what she feared most, to be labelled abnormal. Dumbledore had left Harry on her doorstep, but did this mean they had been in contact after that?

Harry's stomach sank. Did this mean Dumbledore had been covering up for the Dursleys all these years? Was his headmaster just another Lockhart?

He stalled. "You never needed Hedwig before, you'd have scars if you'd even tried to get close to her." Hedwig was too smart to let Petunia use her and there was no way his aunt had an owl of her own.

She was practically cringing in trepidation now, it was impossible for her to be more afraid of Mr Turner now than if the pensioner had donned a hockey mask and blood splattered apron. "You idiot boy! I don't have time to send a letter the _normal _way, do I? And you've not used any of your freakish abilities this time!" She drew a breath, smoothing rumpled curls. "Harry, just tell your... Hedwig that I need her to send a letter, it will be much easier for you if you do."

"No chance, you old hag." Harry snapped back which in turn caused Dudley to snap.

"Don't talk to my mum like that!" Harry bent over double from the blow and tried to pull in oxygen which was now strangely absent from the atmosphere.

In the background he felt Vernon's hand tightening on the back of his neck and Petunia cooing at her obese offspring. "Now Diddykins, let mummy handle this." She turned her cold gaze back to her nephew, her voice now dripping with contempt. "Harry, this is all going to get swept under the carpet one way or the other, but I'd rather not suffer the embarrassment in the meantime. If you cooperate," she shared a look with her husband, "we'll let you out into the garden on occasion, you could eat meals with the family-"

"But mummy!" Dudley whined, "he'll put me off my _food_!"

"Dudders," Vernon grunted, "your mother's handling this."

"I'd rather eat sewage than sit at the same table as you." Harry grumbled, now almost too tried to struggle against his aching skull and the constant pressure against his upper spinal column.

"Fine," Petunia's lips pursed, "then you can have some of your freaky books, I couldn't care less right now. Tell your owl to accept my letter or you won't have _any_ human comforts this summer and I'll still have my way."

Vernon interjected, too late informing her the reason why he had been screaming down the house in the wee hours of the morning. "Pet', the bird took off, he let it out."

Petunia's lips thinned further, to the point where she could give Professor McGonagall a run for her money. "Inside, _now_. We'll deal with this somehow."

"No!" Harry scrambled against his captors, not caring that his muddy feet were scraping against the gravel, or that his spine was being used like a leash on one end, and his night shirt a noose on the other. If he was taken inside, he just _knew_ he wouldn't see sunlight until August first. Petunia would figure something out with Dumbledore, or Vernon would plaster on a smile and spin another tale about his 'poor, mentally disturbed nephew'.

He lashed out with his feet, dug in his elbows, even tried to bite whatever exposed flesh he could reach but soon he was getting dragged into the doorway, as his aunt held the door open, his uncle pushed and his cousin pulled. It was like a madness that had taken over him as he wedged his bruised and filthy feet in the door frame. There was no moon tonight and the stars were obscured by street lamps but Harry felt primal, removed from the modern as adrenaline ran through his veins, a lunatic high.

_The trials guarding the Philosopher's Stone, the day he walked through fire, with only a friend's word that he wouldn't burn alive-_

_Flesh fizzled under his hands, turning to ash and falling through his fingers, into his eyes. Harry held on to survive and tried to block out the sounds of screams-_

_The Chamber of Secrets, blind and terrified as he strained his ears for the scrape of basilisk scales on stone and the chorus of phoenix song._

"STOP FIGHTING ME, BOY!" Harry became aware of the world again when Vernon screamed, and that was enough of a distraction to get his feet on the ground. The wizard tried to wedge himself back in the frame but his arms and legs were pinned and he didn't want to be trapped again, wanted, no- needed to be free!

A broken croon rose in Harry's throat.

An answering shriek shattered the night as Hedwig descended from on-high, returned from her hunt at last. Talons raked Vernon's scalp and he screamed, arms flailing to protect himself. Harry, who was only held by Dudley now, dropped like a stone, barely stopping another whack to the head by sacrificing some of the skin from his elbows.

"Vernon- no! We need it! Boy, call it off, right now!" Even then, Petunia was trying to establish order.

Harry lashed out with his feet, catching a distracted Dudley off guard and breaking his cousin's sweaty grip. "Fly away Hedwig, go to Hogwarts!" 'Be safe.'

"No!" Petunia shrieked in fury and, in lieu of a spare frying pan tried to slap him with her bare hand.

Harry dodged, scrambling to his feet. "I'm leaving. You'll never see me again, you can sort this mess out by yourself- you made it!" Back to the sanctuary tree, he could wait them out if he got that far, were those police sirens in the distance? Hedwig alighted on his shoulder, hissing at the Dursleys as if _daring_ them to try anything while she was there. "Hedwig, I told you to get away!"

She cried her disagreement, tightening her grip until her talons sank into the thin cotton of his shirt, delicately skimming his shoulder without breaking the skin. "Hedwig, please, I need you to-" Harry screamed as Vernon's meaty fist swung up meet them and Hedwig was clipped. "HEDWIG!" The same claws which had tied her to him now stopped her from falling to the ground. He cradled her to his face, her body was warm but her eyes were closed, wings splayed awkwardly from her failed flight. "Hedwig?"

The world narrowed to a single point but it didn't matter, Hedwig wasn't breathing.

Harry screamed, a crescendo of voices and feelings wrapped in a melodic, frightening cry.

Harry James Potter was engulfed in golden flames, his mouth still open in a wordless scream as he vanished from Little Whinging, Surrey.

* * *

A.N.: Okay, I've hinted at a few things in here. Thoughts? Am I being too obvious with my cringe-worthy attempts at subtle fore-shadowing?


	2. Ashes

Golden Apples and Frankincense

Chapter Two: Ashes

Harry was choking, but there was no uncle Vernon here. He coughed, pounding his chest with one hand, still instinctively cradling the warm bundle of feathers with the other. Hedwig could no longer hold herself upright on his shoulder and was flopped over in his lap like a limp feather duster.

"...-" He spat the dry, bitter taste from his mouth and squinted to see the result on the ground- what had he swallowed? All he saw was blurry grey. Harry touched his face but his glasses were still perched on his nose, the lenses intact and getting filthier with every touch.

The boy wizard pulled them off to wipe one-handed, still trying to rid his lungs of that dusty taste and not crush Hedwig. The world came into focus past the smear lines Harry hadn't been able to get off with his equally dirty sleeves. At least it wasn't as bad as having shattered lenses; his childhood magic had usually repaired those overnight (though it had never gotten the hang of frames), but he wasn't sure if that would work now he owned a wand.

What he could see wasn't Privet Drive, or Magnolia Crescent or any of the other streets he knew in the Little Whinging area. It wasn't even a _street_. Tall, unfamiliar trees arched overhead, blocking all but thin slivers of sunlight which looked too bright to be anything but midday rays. Where on Earth had he ended up?

Everything smelled of dry earth, not mown grass or dew and the air was almost painfully clean, without a single trace of car fumes. The only thing Harry could compare it to was a Hogwarts winter, when the usual scents were blanketed by snow and all that remained was untouched. This was starker, purer and all the more frightening for the unknown sights and sounds that assaulted him.

All around Harry was a ring of powdery grey ash, like a small meteor had fallen to earth, leaving the ground beneath him undamaged and without the crater he would expect. Merlin, _he_ was ashen grey all over and the soot clung to his skin, a burning itch slowly spreading to every inch of his afflicted skin as he became aware of the contact.

_Why am I thinking about stupid stuff now?_ Harry clutched Hedwig to him, sniffling into her crest as he tried to call her name.

"./..~..-"

Nothing that constituted real sounds, just creaky breaths and sobs. The wizard buried his face into her warm feathers and cried.

It might have been hours for all his sense of time, he cried until his head throbbed and his throat closed up tight and he had to cough to clear it. He wailed almost soundlessly until ash sloped off his cheeks, his tears making tracks in the dust and splashing onto Hedwig's now grey feathers.

His tears were a long time in stopping because who was here to see him now? This wasn't the Gryffindor dormitories where his nightmares or odd habits would be mysteriously spread around the school by breakfast time, nor was it his room or the cupboard under the stairs which both boasted thin walls and the knowledge that his aunt of uncle could open the door at any time.

Then he had no more tears, he just held one of the few unconditional friends he had in the whole world. Someone who didn't love him for his fame, his parents or his luck on the quiddich pitch: he had so few friends like that. His second friend, just one after Hagrid who was an adult and really an odd acquaintance at best. Hedwig didn't see his parents when she looked at him, or the Boy Who Lived. He was just Harry, the scrawny boy who fed her treats and stroked her feathers just so.

She was still warm, like the ash he knelt in. "../~/..~" He had managed a harsher... not a noise exactly but almost the echo of one. If he focused really hard, Harry could almost pretend he heard her heartbeat.

Badum...Badum...Badum.

"~../!"

It was a heartbeat, weak and fluttering but the beat was steady in Hedwig's fragile chest. A blow like the one she'd suffered, with all of Vernon's considerable weight thrown into it, would have killed a lesser owl. It was a good thing that Hedwig was made of sterner stuff.

The now grey owl hooted softly, opening amber eyes tiredly as if her lids weighed phenomenally more than they should. Harry sniffled, alternating between grinning and coughing over his shoulder so he wouldn't spray Hedwig with spit or something. This ash was really persistent, sticking in his lungs in a way not even floo powder could. When he'd coughed it up and found something to drink he was sure he would be able to talk again. Surely?

Gingerly, Harry wiped his eyes with his free hand, trying to shepherd the tears away without getting dirt in his eyes. It was only then that Harry noticed how rough his skin felt, even under the ash and whatever other muck he'd picked up along the way. He squinted down at it and even with his streak-filled vision he could see the puckered cracks of wrinkles and dark clusters of age spots, which had certainly _not _been there before!

Harry scrambled to his feet, jostling Hedwig who hooted at him half heartedly. Was the ash making him old? Had he somehow fallen out of time for fifty years, like those folklore stories Seamus told the other Gryffindors about toadstool rings? There hadn't been any feasting or dancing, or at least he couldn't remember if there had but the rest fit, right? He was in_ a ring _after all! Even if it was an ash one and there were no mushrooms in sight it was enough to make him panic.

Hyperventilation was making him dizzy and he stumbled as fast as he could out of the 'crater' and instantly felt worse instead of better. His bones ached, even his teeth throbbed and his head felt like it was splitting open. He managed only three steps away from the furthest point the ash had reached before he collapsed to his knees. Hedwig squawked as the sudden descent and impact, wriggling out of his grip with a flurry of wing beats and leaving Harry free to take up a foetal position.

The pain was excruciating, like liquid fire running through his veins. Once, he had thought he knew what that was like, when the basilisk poisoned him in the Chamber, but in caparison that pain was like ice, so cold it merely gave the illusion of burning. This new sensation felt like a wildfire searing him from the marrow outwards and if Harry had his voice he would have screamed it into silence again.

Hedwig was peripheral to his senses, barely on Harry's radar as she flustered about him, cooing what he imagined were encouragements as he cried into the dirt. Sometime during her welcome but ineffectual fussing, she started to preen his hair and Harry could have wailed for the ivory hue it had adopted, shining moon-pale even through the grey ash he had begun to loathe.

Was he going to die like this? Age within minutes until he died a dried-out husk? He had barely begun to live, had only just started to escape the 'home' called Hell. Harry had made friends. For the first time in his life he had people he could depend on, if not completely then enough to trust them to watch his back. That was new, an unfamiliar and oh so sweet knowledge that he should have lapped up while he had the chance, rather than approach it so cautiously. Why had he? For fear his happiness would be wrenched away? Why hadn't he tried harder for them? All the petty squabbles he'd had with Ron and Hermione over the last two school years seemed trivial now as his life began to flicker out like a candle flame being slowly smothered.

_If I get out of this, I'll never take friends for granted again._ Harry thought, desperately. _They're the only family I will ever have. _Mrs Weasley's face flashed before his eyes and let loose a sack of snakes in his belly, only adding to what he was feeling now.

After what seemed like an eternity though was probably only a few minutes, something inside him lurched_. Oh Merlin-_

He must have blacked out at this point because what he saw was a horrible nightmare. The pain was suddenly gone, which was a relief but Hedwig towered over him like a skyscraper and he felt as weak as a newborn.

To make matters worse, he couldn't even swear properly. "Cheep." He chirruped plaintively and sneezed from a crumpled nest of dirty cotton.

* * *

It was, Harry reflected, very good that Hedwig has seen him transform.

He was small and pinkish and very cold, probably from being so naked and tiny, as he hunkered down out of the wind amidst the trappings of his previous life. It was the strangest feeling, for Harry to be the one that needed protecting now. Sure Hedwig had mothered him from day one, but he'd always been larger, able to shield her with his comparative bulk if it ever came to that. Now that their roles were reversed, well, Harry was glad Hedwig wasn't a normal owl. The mundane ones probably ate other birds' unattended chicks or something.

What was happening? How had he gotten here and how did he turn into a baby bird? Everything was so confusing, Harry had actually been elated when he saw his spindly clawed feet and plucked wings. He had been able to put two and two together, as fantastical as it seemed. One little thing making even the tiniest amount of sense amidst this nightmare was something to be celebrated.

Hedwig knew who he was, had seen everything happening and was therefore predisposed not to eat him. Harry could not stress how good a thing this was, considering she was twenty times his size and had a full arsenal of avian weaponry at her disposal. He was smaller than most of the mice she brought up to his room in an attempt to feed him and would have made a tasty hor dourve if not for her foreknowledge, intelligence, and ever present coddling.

Instead of being dinner, Harry was examined from every angle. Hedwig nudging him this way and that with her beak until one push landed him on his back. To his mortification, he couldn't do more than flail weakly and wait for Hedwig to right him, which she did with a chiding series of coos- as if it were his fault he'd fallen over in the first place!

Her feathers bore with them a welcoming warmth as Hedwig squatted down to his level, covering him without squashing him into a chick pancake. Harry's shivers subsided and he chirruped back, too happy to be warm and making any sound at all to be disappointed he couldn't say 'thank you' properly.

Surely, if he was a bird now, he should be able to speak bird language? He could speak Parseltongue and he wasn't even a snake- and snakes didn't even have ears! Speaking Bird when he was a bird made a lot more sense than being able to speak Snake when he was a boy.

Harry wriggled until he was burrowed under one of Hedwig's feathery layers, next to her skin where it was warmest. He let out the equivalent of a birdy yawn which was a cross between a chirrup and a weird inward sneeze. It had been much too hectic that day and adding that Harry was running on little sleep, the limp left-overs of his adrenaline rush weren't going to keep his eyes open much longer.

It was wishful thinking to hope that he would be back to normal by the time he woke up.

* * *

A hissing sound woke Harry, perhaps a few hours later by his internal clock's reckoning. The moon was the only source of light but Hedwig's feathers seemed to gather up the pale beams and reflect them back. Her weak glow and the moon itself, filtering down through the leaves overhead, was all Harry needed to see by. In that moment, he wished otherwise.

Three creatures were circling them, with ugly, bat-like faces and ears melding into a lithe body of dark fur. If Harry were normal sized they'd probably come up to his knees; no more than medium sized dogs. And he was about to get eaten by them.

(Ripper would be so disappointed some other rabid beast had beaten him to it.)

It wasn't actually the bat-faced creatures making noises, as he'd originally thought. Hedwig had puffed up her feathers and spread her wings in attempt to look larger than she was. The wet, rattling hiss came from her, varying pitch in time with the rise and fall of her ruffled feathers.

Hedwig's heartbeat was resounding in his ears. Or maybe it was his own. Harry wasn't so sure any more.

As one of the dog things darted forward (to make a swipe for him or Hedwig, it wasn't clear), Hedwig screeched, trying to peck at the interloper rather than swipe at it with her claws. Her entire body was vibrating with tension, doubly so when she missed. Her beak wasn't made for striking that way and she was pinned down, not only to the ground but to that one small spot where she could keep Harry safe.

Harry chirped shrilly, trying to impress his meaning into the handful of sounds he could make, and wriggled against one of Hedwig's legs, nudging at one scaly foot and chirruping plaintively.

Hedwig soon grasped his meaning, gripping him securely in her claws and launching them both into the air in one frantic flurry of motion. She wasn't encumbered by the extra weight (Harry was too small a passenger to make much difference) but a vertical take-off with only only one foot on the ground so not to crush him- that was hard. Hedwig narrowly dodged a snapping set of jaws, actually using the animal's head as a springboard to get a little more height. Soon they were off the ground, Hedwig's wings beating strongly yet still managing to maintain absolute silence as they wove through the obstructing branches.

It was nothing like Quidditch; when Harry was flying on a broom he was in control. Sure, the wind might buffet him a bit in really bad weather, but the only time he'd ever been helpless in the air was when Quirrell was bucking his broom about. The helplessness of that time was nothing compared to what he felt now. Harry had ended up facing the night sky somehow, his belly held in Hedwig's claws with delicate precision. If she tightened her grip even a little, he would be crushed.

Quidditch at Hogwarts was pure, unadulterated freedom but this- this was scary. He never knew that flying could be tainted with the fear of falling, it had honestly never occurred to him before.

They hadn't yet broken the canopy when a dark shape launched itself in their direction and it was only the high-pitched shriek it let out that allowed Hedwig to dodge in time. Turning herself and her passenger, Hedwig lashed out with her free talons, tearing through the membrane of one of the wings and screeching in victory when the creature fell with a thump to the forest floor.

Harry blinked down at the animal, twisting his bald body to watch its descent. He was still getting his head around the strangeness of it all (ironically, this was starting to be a familiar state of mind for him). How on Earth could something that moved like a dog on the ground fly like a bat in the air? There must be some trick to getting such large bodies into the air without a runway-

Another one of the bat-dogs launched itself at them and this time Harry turned in time to see the third pack member running up the trunk of a nearby tree. This one used the trunk like a springboard, unfurling its wings with a leathery _snap _and tried to pin Hedwig down with its partner on the other side.

Hedwig put on a burst of speed, manoeuvrings through a series of tightly knit evergreens in a manner that would have done Wood proud. As the bat-dogs bounced off the trees, gaining purchase on the bark but losing momentum as well, Hedwig propelled them upwards, breaking the canopy in a spectacular spray of pine needles. Harry voiced his discomfort in a panicked series of twitters; although Hedwig's wings had been curved downward in a sheltering position, the twigs that Hedwig dislodged had snapped around him like thunder. One stray branch at just the right angle and he'd lose an eye -or worse- and he'd be unable to do anything, even raise his hands to defend himself.

He didn't even _have _hands any more.

The moon was glorious overhead, the largest he'd ever seen it, or perhaps Harry was merely more dwarfed by it now than he'd ever been. It illuminated the tree line only indistinctly, like a dusting of chalk on coal, it was impossible to pierce the deeper darkness they had just escaped. It may have just been his imagination, but Harry thought he saw two hunched forms perched on the topmost branches of one of the taller trees, hissing discontentedly as they saw their would-be-prey fly off.

Harry's cheep was a little like a snigger and he received a smug coo in return.

His owl was pure bloody _brilliant_.

* * *

Hedwig carried Harry a fair distance, until it was evident that their pursuers would not be following them. She kept within the forest boundaries and the woodland was a large one, although not so immense that Harry couldn't see some of the edges of it from his vantage point in Hedwig's claws.

Eventually they dropped down onto a thick branch stripped of its bark, Hedwig knowing exactly what she was looking for even if Harry didn't have a clue. The cat/owl hybrid gave Hedwig a long look over with its glowing green eyes before scampering post-haste down the tree trunk, vacating its home in the hollow of the dead tree without a fight.

Harry cocked his little bird head in confusion, trying to get a good look at Hedwig's expression from the awkward angle he was in. His owl didn't look that scary- it was only the same look she gave his hair when it refused to conform to her preening regime.

Oh well, the nest was nice enough (Hedwig seemed to sniff, like Aunt Petunia when she saw a dirty child, or dust on her mantelpiece), it was certainly safer than being on the ground, though the increased altitude made it colder. Hedwig's fussing soon got the nest arranged to her satisfaction and only then did she gently deposit Harry onto the softest patch of the cat-owl's moulted feathers. Then Hedwig stooped to get in, as the hole was a little small for her, and Harry was in that awkward place between _really warm _and _oh god, my owl's sitting on me, why aren't I crushed? _

Harry had a difficulty dropping off this time; his previous nap had taken the edge off his exhaustion and his imagination was nothing if not wide awake to speculate what else could be lurking in the dark. A strange species mixing two types of animals together was weird enough but two of them? That wasn't a coincidence. Either some muggle lab had been messing around with genetics, or a witch or wizard in the area really needed to work on their transfiguration skills.

Muggles wouldn't be able to help him, of course, but he might have more luck communicating with someone from the wizarding world, someone who expected the weird and wonderful to happen rather than discounting it. It was something to ponder for tomorrow.

After wriggling about a bit to get the best view over the edge, Harry found his eyes fixed on a point in the distance, a puckered knot of wood on one of the opposite trees. It was amazing that he was able to see such a small detail so clearly without his glasses which, as far as he knew, were still in the clearing. Maybe whatever bird he'd turned into had really good eyes naturally? Not great night vision, that was the same as before, but definitely better sight overall.

_Maybe I'll get to keep that, once I figure out how to turn back. _He had never studied the animagus transformation past Professor McGonagull's brief explanation of it in first year. She had mentioned 'attribute bleed over' concerning people who stayed in their animal forms too long though and that sounded promising. Harry reckoned that developing a taste for bird seed would be a small price to pay if he could keep the eyesight.

Harry stomach gurgled, surprisingly loud for such a little belly. He stamped down on the urge to chirp both plaintively and continuously. Hunger wasn't a new thing to him and Hedwig was tired, there really was no point... waking her? Yes, her eyes were closed now and she was breathing rhythmically. Harry shut his eyes tight and tried to follow her example.

* * *

The first pale vestiges of dawn were just starting to paint the sky with a second twilight when Harry heard it.

_((Eggs, eggs, beautiful eggs, all for me~ One, two three~))_

Someone was singing, badly.

Harry squirmed from Hedwig's sleeping vigil and peered over the edge. _((Hello?)) _He called, forgetting that he couldn't speak properly. Sure enough, all he got was bird noises.

_((Who speaks? You? Featherless egg-layer?))_

_((Er, yeah. Where are you?)) _Harry peered as far as he could down to the ground without falling out the hollow.

_((Look up, stupid egg-layer!)) _

Harry spun, as well as he could spin around that is, crashing into Hedwig with a feathery 'bump' that didn't even dent her plumage. A snake stared down at him from above the hollow opening, its black eyes watching unblinkingly and its mottled brown scales blending in against the parts of the bark that hadn't been stripped away at some point. _((Oh! Hullo. Er, don't eat me.))_

_((Why not?)) _The snake sounded disappointed, its tongue flicking out to taste the air. _((Even though you speak you are still small and edible.)) _It surveyed the nest as best it could without coming into striking distance of the sleeping owl. _((I won't eat you if you give me some eggs. I like eggs.)) _The snake's sibilant voice took on a longing tone.

_((Er,)) _Harry seemed to be saying that a lot today, _((there aren't any eggs here. And if there were, Hedwig would eat you before you could eat them. Or me,)) _he hastened to add.

_((Phooey.)) _The snake huffed and something rustled discontentedly along it's sides.

_((You have wings!)) _Harry gasped in a chirruping fashion. _((How do you have wings?))_

_((The same way all my nest mates had wings. You are a very stupid egg-layer, even for a little one.))_

_((Actually,)) _Harry trilled, _((only lady birds lay eggs and so do lady snakes so how come you only call birds egg-layers?))_

_((That,)) _the snake sniffed, _((is too complicated for a stupid egg-layer to understand. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go find some eggs to eat.)) _It started its slow slither down the trunk.

_((Wait! I have lots of questions!)) _Harry called after it._ ((And birds lay in the spring! You're too late to eat eggs!))_

The snake wailed._ ((But you're still a little morsel- there must be delicious eggys left!))_

_((I don't think so.))_

The snake reared up, grasping the nearest branch with its tail and raising itself up to look directly into Harry's eyes. _((Oh, you think you know so much! I've seen a winter- have you? I thought not.)) _It added immediately, with great smugness.

Harry was starting to rethink asking this particular reptile for help._ ((I'm older than I look. I used to be human, a wizard, but I accidentally turned into a bird and now Hedwig, my owl, is looking after me. I was able to speak Parseltongue before I changed which if how I can talk to you but I don't speak bird language. Can you help me? Please?))_

The snake looked at him, head cocked, then started to laugh_. ((I have not heard such a good joke in ages! In fact... the last time I heard a joke was from my fourth hatched nest mate. He's dead now you know, jokers don't last long.)) _The snake added, its coils still rolling with hissing laughter.

_((Fine!)) _Harry snapped._ ((Whatever. It sounds silly but it's true. I can't talk to Hedwig at all and I need to. Do you speak Bird? Would you translate for me?))_

The snake looked considering for a moment. _((No.)) _He slithered to the end of the branch then launched himself off, opening two sets of sparrow wings along his body so he could glide jerkily to the next tree. Harry still wasn't sure if the snake could have helped him out if he wanted to, or whether it was all an issue of selfishness.

_((Dammit.)) _Harry tweet-hissed, still using the bird dialect of Parseltongue though the ease of it was gone with the snake out of his line of sight.

Sleep came back to him reluctantly, even as he curled up at the back of the hollow away from prying eyes and snapping jaws that haunted him long into his dreams.

* * *

Hedwig was wide awake before Harry, looking awfully cheerful for a nocturnal bird. Harry resisted the urge to snuggle back into the stolen bedding, giving into the more persistent one that he'd been feeling for quite some time now.

He opened his mouth wide and let out a high pitched cheep, several cheeps in fact. When he was sure she'd gotten the message, Harry bundled the instinct up and refused to pay it any more attention. Because if he let it, it would have had him squawking all day.

Hedwig cooed, bobbing her head a few times and shuffled out of the hollow, falling backwards into a perfect half spin, missing the branch on their doorstep and gliding into an updraught. The wizard-turned-bird watched her with no small amount of envy. _I wonder if I'll ever manage to do that...? _Not that he planned to stay a bird for long but still, it might be nice, just once, to try natural flight. He missed his Nimbus.

Not long after she'd left (though it _felt _like ages, Harry was so exposed in the nest by himself), Hedwig returned with a dead mouse and dropped it proudly at his feet.

Shuddering, Harry made a very human retching noise and shook his head violently. _I can't eat that! _The thought was even more disgusting than when he was a boy. Somehow.

Hedwig huffed, like a mother trying to get an obstinate child to eat, which was an apt description, Harry supposed. She tore off a little strip of flesh with her beak: a bloody sliver of flesh and a tiny strand of intestine topped with a prickling of brown fur.

This time Harry really retched, coughing up what little was in his stomach. _Ew. _Harry shuffled away from the spot and looked up just in time to see Hedwig swallow the mouse whole. It disappeared down her gullet, feet first and trunk last -_wait, what?_- and his stomach rolled again. Only the memories of Hedwig doing similar things in the past stopped him from losing another dose of bile to the feathered floor.

Amber eyes observed him contemplatively for a head-cocked moment before Hedwig flew out again.

Trying very hard not to think what she might bring back next time, Harry buried himself in some clean bedding to ward off his naked chill. _Well, _hethought_, I'm not a carnivore any more. Omnivore? So I'm a vegetarian? _That sounded about right. Some toast sounded good, as did treacle tart (didn't it always?) but he was getting the oddest craving for fruit and nut, and not the Cadbury's knock off either but real, honest to Merlin, scavenged-from-the-hedgerows sustenance. Seeing as the Dusley's had raised him on scraps and Hogwarts dining had been a poster child for heavy English cuisine, these pangs were odd. _Bird food, indeed._

He was snapped from his reverie by Hedwig's speedy return. In her claws she clutched several starburst formations of slender twigs, every one laden with dark ripened berries.

_Hedwig, if I had lips, I would _kiss _you!_

The first fruit yielded a sharp, sweet tang which was far from unpleasant. Many times that number left Harry feeling sick from eating too much, too quickly. Compared to gnawing hunger, that wasn't so bad though.

Harry cuddled up to Hedwig, marvelling in how easy he found contact as a bird, compared to how he would shy away from hugs as a boy. The white mistress of the night preened smugly as if to say: 'see? Told you I would get it right eventually.'

* * *

A.N.: Well, this chapter was more exciting than the last one, I hate exposition but it really had to be done.

This chapter took a long time to write and edit to my satisfaction. I would be very grateful if you could leave a review; reviews telling me what you liked/didn't like and _why_ are the best reviews ever.


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